Then, they try to imagine new futures. They make lists: Here is what I used to love, here is what I love now, here is what I might love in the future. Here is what I am left with. What happens is unexpected—not a construction but a deconstruction. A self-portrait in retrograde, a shedding of skins and selves, of all the people they have tried to be, all the stories they have told themself about who they are. Deep in the woods with a bear by their side, they dream new possibilities into existence.
